


Stand With Me

by Jamz24



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alt er Love, Alt-Right, Black Lives Matter, Boy Squad (SKAM) - Freeform, Du Er Ikke Alene, Elevebakken (SKAM), Evak - Freeform, Evak AU, F/M, Feminism, Gay Rights, Girl squad (SKAM) - Freeform, Homophobic Language, Intersectionality, M/M, Multi, Muslims 4 Peace, Other, Racist Language, SKAM - Freeform, SKAM Fic Week, Skam Drabble, The Balloon Squad (SKAM), Triggers, anti-semitic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamz24/pseuds/Jamz24
Summary: Would you meet the love of your life at a fascist rally? Closeted Isak and out-and-proud Even meet while protesting at a neo-Nazi march but fate seems to be conspiring to keep them apart ...





	Stand With Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess most people heard of the #Charlottesville "alt-right" march and the counter protests that accompanied it. I felt pretty shitty and saddened about the whole thing so I bashed out this one-shot fic over a weekend as a sort of therapy. If ever there's a time that people of all races, colours, genders and sexualities need to stand together, it's NOW.
> 
> Also, I made up the name Right Is Right to be the Skam crew’s local right-wing march (if there is such a march it’s an unfortunate coincidence, lemme know and I'll change it). I didn’t wanna set this AU in reality, whether it be Oslo or the States for obvious reasons so I kept all geographical details deliberately vague and universal. I think my opinion is pretty clear in this - let's all stand together against hate - but happy to debate so do leave a comment if you read it! 
> 
> Also: REALLY SORRY for anybody waiting on an update of my other fics - I PROMISE I'll update as soon as! I had a computer issue with Doppelganger and lost a bunch of work (bet most ppl can relate) and my summer job got in the way of research for The Spy Who Loved (and also my dad is pretty ill at the moment so doing lots of travelling). I've NOT abandoned them though, do keep the faith, I'll be updating soon! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks!

All Isak wanted to do that evening was go home, play Fifa, jerk off a little and steal some of Eskild’s food – if he could find any frozen waffles or pot noodles that he hadn’t already eaten. It really wasn’t much to ask, was it?

But Sana was making it very difficult. Isak had been minding his own business, chilling in the biology lab for a few minutes after the last period of school, covertly swiping through porn on his phone _– HOT BOYS IN ACTION! FILTHY LOCKER ROOM GAMES!_ – when she confronted him, all whirling hijab and angry eyebrows.

“What do you MEAN you’re not gonna protest at the _Right Is Right_ march?”

Isak gulped and flicked off his phone, shoving it out of sight in his jacket pocket. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come to the march,” he lied uneasily. “I just said I wasn’t sure I could make it.”

He wasn’t political. He just didn’t see the point of it. All that marching around with flags and banners was exhausting, really, shouting about stuff that you couldn’t change with a bunch of people who already thought the same as you already. While the people in power couldn’t give a shit anyway and everything just stayed the same. Isak had no time for politics, and people who did bored him. Apart from Jonas, of course, but he’d forgive his best friend anything, especially as Jonas only tended to get political when he had brought out the weed.

All the same, Isak quaked under Sana’s disapproving stare. “It’s just, I’ve got so much homework to do, and –“

“I’ve got exactly the same amount of homework as you, Isabelle!” barked Sana angrily. “And I am MAKING TIME to try to save this fucked up world from a bunch of fascists. You know they’re going to march through the city square, right?”

“Well, uh,” said Isak, “I guess, I mean they’ve got a permit and everything? I mean the march is legal, so is there really much we can do?”

Sana’s eyes looked like they were going to explode out of her head. “Legal! The gas chambers were “legal,” Issy! The gulags were “legal”! Torture is “legal” in some countries!  It doesn’t mean it’s _right_!!!”

Isak slung his satchel over his shoulder. “Yeah, I know, I just mean that there’s free speech and all, I guess I hate everything fascists stand for, but they’ve got the right to say it, I guess.”

He stopped dead at the look on Sana’s face.

“Free speech isn’t about supporting systems that murder and enslave people, you prick!” shouted Sana. “We have an equal right to go and protest every motherfucking thing that they stand for!”

Isak rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

“And anyway,” Sana shot him a viciously raised eyebrow. “You know that _Right Is Right_ hate anyone who isn’t heterosexual, right?”

Isak felt a sudden wave of shame surging through his stomach and his neck started to heat up uncomfortably. “Ugh, yeah, I do know that. So?”

He couldn’t look her in the face. Had she seen what he’d been looking at on his screen? Sometimes Sana seemed to know everything about him, despite the fact he’d never ever told a living soul about ... _that._

“Well, perhaps you’d better think long and hard about whether you want them getting power here,” snapped Sana.

Isak’s cheeks were so red he could barely stand it. “I said I was sorry. I’ll come, okay! Just get off my back about it.”

Sana glared at him before wheeling around and stalking off. “You fucking better, Issy.”

 

 ***

 

And the worst thing was that all his friends seemed to be going so there was absolutely no way Isak could sneak off unnoticed.

Since when did everyone get so freaking _woke_?

Jonas of course was going, with his Young Socialist friends, and Mahdi was organising a bloc with some of the Black Lives Matter crew. Sana, her brother Elias and her boyfriend Yousef were joining with a local mosque group called Muslims 4 Peace, while Noora, Vilde and the girls were marching for some new feminist group they’d just set up. As he watched Jonas and Mahdi paint up their signs and banners after school in the gym, Isak couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place.

“You see, I’m not a socialist, I’m not black, and I’m not Muslim,” started Isak, as reasonably as he could. “I just don’t know who I’d protest with.”

“There you see!” Mahdi rolled his eyes. “That’s white privilege right there! Thinking you can sit comfortably in the middle while people of colour, other religions and genders are literally fighting for their lives!”

“Dude, these are Nazis we’re speaking about,” said Jonas frowning at him. “It’s all our jobs to protest them. Even if you’re not one of the groups they’re hating on, you need to stand the fuck up against them.”

“I just think that we should ignore them, really,” said Isak huffily. “Otherwise we just give them attention, and that’s what they want, no?”

“We’ve been ignoring this shit for years,” said Jonas incredulously. “And their resentments and prejudices have grown, and grown, and grown. Now look where we are.”

“Will there be fighting?” asked Isak resignedly. He wasn’t much good in a brawl, that he knew.

“Of course not!” said Mahdi. “It’s a peaceful counter-protest, to show a united resistance against fascism. There’s gonna be some drumming and singing…”

“And flower-arranging and massage,” muttered Isak under his breath. It sounded _awful._

“Well there might be fighting, if William and Chris come along like they were saying,” put in Jonas.

Isak turned to face him, incredulous. “What??? Willhelm and P-Chris are coming?”

Jonas rolled his eyes. “Sure, man. Like no one in the school thinks fascism is cool, you know. Apart from maybe Julian Dahl.”

Isak puffed out his cheeks. “But Willhelm’s the biggest prick there is.”

“He’s showing up, though,” said Jonas pointedly. “Which is more than could be said for some people.”

Isak felt miffed. If even the Penetrators were getting woke, he’d look like the biggest dick ever if he didn’t show up. There didn’t seem much way around it. At the same time he couldn’t help but feel some self-pity. Everyone was marching for their rights, but what about him? Who would march for his rights, for his right to have a childhood without a mentally ill mother who took up all his time and energy, for his right to have a father who hadn’t deserted him. These were the things that were most important to Isak after all. And nobody would march for those.

“Willhelm’s just trying to get into Noora’s pants,” said Magnus suddenly behind him. “I think she said he couldn’t take her on a date unless he brought the Penetrators to the march. Or perhaps he’s just after a bit of a scrap.”

“Mags, out of interest, why are you here?” asked Jonas. “Isak here says that he shouldn’t march because he’s white and privileged.”

“I did not!” protested Isak. “I just said that I wasn’t –“

But Jonas was merciless. “As a straight, white, cis boy, Mags, why exactly are you marching with a bunch of commies, feminists, black and Muslim people if you’re not under attack yourself?”

“I’m coming because they hate on my friends,” said Magnus, chomping happily into an apple. “Which makes them pricks in my book, whether they hate me or not.”

 

 ***

 

“Hey, look at this!” Eva and female Chris ran up and unveiled a banner with _SUCK MY PUSSY YOU FASCIST EUNUCHS_ written on it, along with lots of graphic pictures of female genitals, mainly looking as if they were either urinating or ejaculating on various shaved Neo-Nazi heads.

“Wow,” said Isak, feeling somewhat at a loss. “That’s uh, eye-catching.”

“We thought of putting _DUDE, WHERE’S MY CLITORIS_ ” said Chris happily, “But we worried that might seem too much of an invitation.”

“I don’t like it,” said Noora, strolling up with a simple banner which read _MY BODY MY RULES._ “I think putting swear words on banners brings down the cause.”

“It’s _protest_ , Noora!” argued Eva. “You need to make a _noise_ about stuff. Being a good girl never got women anywhere!”

Jonas grinned at her. “You’re so amazing, honey.” He pulled her close and kissed her cheek admiringly. “I love it when you talk dirty political.”

“Ugh, please,” Isak turned away in dismay. Ever since Jonas and Eva had gotten back together he felt sick whenever he saw them together. Sick and resentful. He couldn’t quite explain it. Jonas was his friend and he had the right to date whoever he chose. And Eva was his friend and deserved to be happy. So why did their love make him so unhappy and twitchy?

 

At six o’clock they gathered up their banners and posters and made their way down to the square to join the counter-protest and everything immediately happened that Isak had feared. Jonas put up his red flags and peeled off to lead the march with Eva’s feminist group, Mahdi disappeared to set up a drumming and rapping session with the Black Lives Matter group and Isak couldn’t see Sana’s mosque group anywhere. Even Magnus had marched off with Vilde wearing a _I’M NOT A FEMINIST BUT MY GIRLFRIEND IS_ T-shirt, and now there wasn’t anyone else that Isak knew to walk with. He felt suddenly terribly lonely. Thousands upon thousands of different groups waving flags and banners in the counter-protest, and he didn’t fit in any of them.

 _Okay_ , he decided, he’d walk with everyone until the square, so he could truthfully say _yeah he’d been on the march_ , and then slip off quietly for some peaceful gaming and see if Eskild had any beer in the fridge. Nobody would notice. But as they came into the square he saw a police cordon and the first sight of the Right is Right march. Despite himself he drew in his breath. Nothing could have prepared him for the first sight of such an avalanche of hate.

He had thought he’d see a few of the usual, shaven-headed losers, and maybe a few motorbikes and tinhats with beards, but this was on a different level. There were literally thousands of them, most dressed in white shirts and bearing motherfucking blazing _torches_. Torches like you’d buy to illuminate a barbecue or an evening party, but also like the ones you saw in old Ku Klux Klan footage from the Fifties.

There were some motorcycle gangs and militias but many marchers came from far outside the usual white defender types Isak had expected: there were lots of preppy-looking, blond haired guys with their Fifties-style white polos, young men in their late teens and early twenties, and women, lots of _women_. Some even carried children. Many people seemed … well, they seemed … _normal_.

And then he heard the chants.

 “Jews will not replace us!”

“You walk like a nigger and you talk like a nigger -”

“Blood and soil!”

“Fuck you faggots!”

 _Fuck_ , Isak thought. _They really think this shit._

The light had begun to dim and the torchlight flickered over their angry, shouting faces. It was like some kind of fucked-up movie, an old black-and-white film from an unhappier time. Isak looked around for his friends but the bigger groups must have been kettled in a separate part of the square by the police. Around him were a few students, many filming the march and uploading it to their socials. He wasn’t immediately sure which side any of them were on.

From his left, he heard a few solitary voices battling with the Nazi chants from the marchers.

“We’re here! We’re queer! No Nazi hate and fear!”

“Say hey! Say ho! Homophobia’s got to go!”

Isak strained to see where the voices were coming from. Around the war monument that the Nazis were passing, he could just about make out a few people clustered under rainbow banners saying _FAGGOTS FOR FREEDOM_. Despite his usual hatred for the word _faggot_ , he couldn’t help but smile.

“Two, four, six, eight! Bet you Nazi boys aren’t straight!”

A deep voice rang out over the noise and chaos. In the small huddle of people around the monument’s steps Isak could see a tall, fluffy-haired boy, head and shoulders above everyone else, waving a placard and leading the chants against the Nazis.

Isak couldn’t see the boy particularly well, but as he turned, the light from the torches spilled onto his cheek, illuminating two large blue eyes and a wide, laughing smile. He seemed to be radiating happiness, which was an odd contrast to the hate-filled chants of the marchers that Isak stood entranced for a moment, watching him. A rippling, multicoloured cloud fluttered sparkling from the boy’s open hand and drifted over the crowd in a riot of colour. Isak blinked in confusion. It was a moment before he realised he was throwing handfuls of rainbow glitter at the marchers.

“Two, four, six, eight! Bet you Nazi boys aren’t straight!” repeated the tall boy, beckoning his group into the chant with him.

“Fuck you faggots!” shouted back the marchers. “Fuck you faggots!”

Isak jerked abruptly back to the present, to see a group of men detaching themselves from the main bloc and encircling the tall boy and his group menacingly, hurling abuse at them. The Freedom Faggots shrank back against the monument as the marchers pushed forward, outnumbering them hugely, thrusting their faces at them and screaming in their ears.

“We’re gonna kill you, faggots!”

Isak’s heart banged terrified against his ribs. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. That was _him_ they were shouting at. All that hate seemed for him alone. He felt that they had uncovered the secret he’d never managed to tell anyone. All the hate that he felt towards himself was suddenly magnified by a thousand, a millionfold. His worst fear was coming true, and he was frozen by fear.

But the tall boy stepped forward undaunted and cast another handful of rainbow glitter at the marchers. White teeth flashed in a charming smile as he laughed in their screaming faces. “Two, four, six …”

A floppy-haired, polo-shirted Nazi, who looked hardly older than Isak, stepped forward and threw a punch onto the tall boy’s cheek.

“Burn in hell you fucking gay boy!”

Instantly the crowd exploded into chaos, with people starting to grapple and punch at each other. The Freedom Faggots gave as good as they got but they were vastly outnumbered and they were soon scattered and chased away. Sometimes the Nazis mistakenly punched each other (Isak heard, _“I’m one of you, you idiot!”_ a couple of times) but from what he could see, the Freedom Faggots were getting the brunt of the beatings.

Isak suddenly couldn’t see the tall boy – had he fallen? had they dragged him off? – He looked around frantically for the emergency services, but the police weren’t interested in doing much, just standing back watching.

Although he was shaking in his shoes, Isak stubbornly mustered what little courage he had. This was horrific. This was unforgiveable. He couldn’t just stand back while people were being beaten, for no reason than they were different. No matter who they were, no matter whether he was one of them or not, he had to do _something_.

Because if he did nothing, he would be letting _them_ win.

He forced himself to move, dodging between the groups of brawlers, seeking the tall boy where he had fallen. He knew he wasn’t much good in a fight, but he could help save those who had been wounded, get them out of harm’s way and patch them up a bit, maybe. He knew a bit about biology, and he’d done some first-aid courses, so if he wasn’t one of nature’s fighters, _maybe_ he could be one of its healers?

 

Isak couldn’t find the tall boy at first, but he ran into a girl with a broken nose who was staggering along who’d lost her friends. He couldn’t leave her in that state so he dug around in his backpack to find a pack of wipes and one of his bandanas which he fashioned into a rough pad to hold against her face to staunch the bleeding.

Meanwhile the fighting around them appeared to have become thicker –  Isak figured a few more protest groups had gotten through police lines to join the fray – and there was no place for them to retreat to. But he saw behind the War Monument there was a small garden, and it struck him that this would be a good place to triage the wounded.

He comforted the girl with the broken nose and sat her on a garden seat with her head back and nose elevated. He pulled a teenager who had been stamped on and kicked to safety. He vaguely recognised another boy from school who’d been kicked in the face but he couldn’t place the name – again he was too busy. Isak was especially worried because the boy’s face was white as paper and he kept vomiting. He couldn’t do much for him apart from make him comfortable and give him paracetamol. He knew the importance of not moving people too much when they’d gotten injured.

It was after he’d helped a few more people with minor injuries into the garden and checked them over that he finally saw a splash of rainbow coloured glitter trailing up the war memorial steps. His heart slammed up into his throat, and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but think _No, no, please no. No …_

The fluffy-haired boy lay in a pool of blood beneath the memorial, his fair hair drenched in red, red spatters over his cheek. He was lying crumpled on his side, arms still flung up as if protecting his head. His colouring was pale and he was almost unrecognisable from the beautiful youth who had defiantly flung rainbow glitter over hate. Brutal fists had punched his cheek bloody, and his eyes were swollen closed. Isak wasn’t sure, but he didn’t seem to be breathing.

Isak dropped to his knees next to the boy’s unconscious figure, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his chest slowly rising and falling. He ran his hands softly over the boy’s soft hair, checking for a skull injury, wincing as his fingers met blood, blood and more blood.

Shit. This was bad. He wasn’t even sure now if he should move the boy to the garden. The thing with cranial injuries was that one jerky step could prove fatal. The fighting had moved down towards the road now, but they were still perilously near the main march.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open and he gasped. Isak saw two bewildered blue eyes darting around desperately under long lashes. Without meaning to, he stroked the boy’s cheek, with a gesture meant to soothe and reassure him. He was quite unprepared at the way his own fingers burned at the touch of the other’s soft skin. The blue eyes blinked up at him, and despite himself he leaned closer.

“It’s okay, my name’s Isak. I’m looking after you. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy flinched and a tear squeezed from the corner of one eye. “Help, help me, please.”

“Stay with me, stay with me,” Isak muttered, suddenly dazed at the look the boy was giving him. “It’s okay, I’m looking after you.”

Isak had once read an article about how people in danger saw beauty far more intensely than those in normal circumstances. Apparently a girl had once conducted an experiment by standing on a precariously high bridge to interview people climbing past, and everyone had rated her attractiveness higher than when she’d interviewed people standing on the ground. The conclusion had been that high stress levels raised endorphins, meaning a higher sex drive and a stronger sense of attraction. But surely this explanation alone couldn’t account for the fact that he was holding in his arms the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.

“Where’s Mikael?” groaned the boy.

“Sorry, who?” asked Isak, leaning forward to hear better. He could feel the boy’s breath on his cheek, warm and spicy as if he’d been chewing cinnamon gum. Inches below him he saw the boy’s full lips draw back over his teeth as he suddenly squirmed and hissed in pain. Had he ever seen lips that beautiful? Isak was pretty sure he hadn’t. He was also pretty sure he shouldn’t be having thoughts like these at a time like this…

“Where’s …” sighed the boy, before his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out. Isak patted his cheek as hard as he dared, called to him, but the boy was completely out for the count.

Who the fuck was Mikael? Isak glanced around but there were no more of the Freedom Faggots around. He didn’t recognise the boy, he was sure, he definitely didn’t go to his school, fuck he’d _definitely_ have noticed someone who looked like …

He was suddenly very aware of how close he was holding the boy. _Pulse_ , he thought to himself, reaching for the boy’s wrist. _Check his fucking pulse._ _Some kind of medic you’d make. Fuck_.

The boy’s pulse was weak and low and Isak bit his lip in worry. He now had two people in critical condition in the little garden, plus lots of walking wounded, and no way of getting them to help. Out in the square fighting had reached fever pitch. He looked out over the struggling marchers. It looked like most of the main protest groups had now broken into the main square somehow, and any escape that way was impossible.

No sign of police anywhere near now. He suddenly thought of his phone. He could call the emergency services, surely they’d be able to send an ambulance in. But when he got it out of his pocket, there was one tiny bar of battery, which as Isak gazed at it, flickered and died.

“SHIT,” he cried in exasperation. “HELP! HELP!”

“What are you squeaking about, little faggot?” shouted a voice. “Something happened to your lil’ boyfriend, huh?”

Isak glanced up and his heart sank. Two white men in polo shirts and chinos had broken away from the main march, bloodied and grinning, both looking pretty roughed up but definitely in the mood for some more fighting.

He looked the other way, but he couldn’t see anyone near to call for help. _Keep calm_ , he told himself. _Don’t let them see that you’re afraid._  

“I said what’s up, huh?” the man sneered at him. “Lost your tongue?”

Isak was trembling all over but he forced himself to speak as bravely as possible. “This person’s very injured. We have to get him to a hospital.”

The larger man swaggered over to him. “Is he, now? And would he be one of those people who’ve been giving our boys such a hard time tonight?”

Isak’s heart was pounding so it felt it would break out of his chest, but he knew if his voice trembled he would be done for. “I’m here to help the wounded, whichever side they’re on,” He raised his phone and held it to his ear. “The ambulance is nearly here.”

“Fuck this,” snarled the Nazi, and with a casual sweep of his arm sent Isak tumbling to the ground, leaving the unconscious boy lying exposed in front of them. He turned to his friend. “Finish off that faggot rat, and then let’s get this other little bitch.”

Although he was almost paralysed by fear, Isak felt a surge of anger through his blood at his words. What right did these people have to talk about others as if they were vermin or animals? Looking up at them, he could tell that they thought he was inferior, and the thought pissed him off mightily. He was suddenly in a fighting mood.

He struggled to his feet. “Touch him and you’re in trouble. I’m warning you.”

The Nazi gurgled with laughter. “Say that again?”

“I said,” stuttered Isak, his voice finally breaking, “you’re in trouble if you touch him.”

“And why would that be, little faggot?” leered the man. Up close, his eyes ran over Isak in a way that made his blood run cold. He moved closer, backing Isak up against the monument steps until Isak could feel his stale breath on his neck. “You look like you’re in need of a good dicking down, boy. When we’ve finished off your friend, we’re gonna show you a thing or two before we –”

“Get away from me,” hissed Isak. “Touch either of us and you’re dead.”

The man pushed an elbow against his neck so Isak could hardly breathe, and nodded at his friend, who stepped towards the unconscious boy on the ground, holding one heavy boot over his head.

“Stop!” gasped Isak, pushing ineffectively at the man in front of him. “Stop!”

He struggled with all his strength but the pressure of the Nazi’s elbow on his neck was almost unbearable. He could see the other man standing over the boy, boot raised to crush his unconscious face.

“No! No!” Isak screamed but the sound was blown away on the wind and the noise of the fighting. The Nazi turned to him, grinning in triumph.

“Say goodnight, lil’ faggot!”

Isak screwed up his face and closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch, he _couldn’t_ -

“SAY GOODNIGHT, ALT-RIGHT!” cried a voice from the darkness, and the man standing over the boy suddenly keeled over sideways as a punch caught his temple. The next moment another blow from behind sent the guy throttling Isak rolling down the steps. Isak staggered and blinked up at his rescuers, only to see Sana and her brother Elias standing in front of him.

Sana stared at him in astonishment.

“Issy! _You’re_ here?”

Elias clapped him on the shoulder. Isak noticed in dull surprise he was wearing boxing gloves.  

“Good work holding them off, mate. We almost didn’t think we’d make it in time.”

 

 ***

 

“Even! Even!” voices were shouting all around him, but Isak was suddenly dizzy. He sank to his knees, hearing the sound of people shouting and cheering. He recognised people from the Young Socialists, Black Lives Matter and the Muslims 4 Peace tearing into the garden.

“What? Who’s Even?” he gasped weakly.

Elias helped him to his feet, guiding him down the steps to where the tall boy lay unconscious in a group of young Muslims holding his hands, patting his cheek and calling to him. “Even? He’s our friend. The one you saved.”

Isak looked down at the tall boy, his face pale and bloodied, but still the most beautiful boy Isak had seen all his life. “His name’s _Even_?”

 _Even, Even, Even_ he thought to himself, the name chiming sweetly in his head. _That’s the best song I ever heard._

Sana knelt next to the boy – Even – her face concerned. “I’m worried he’s got a fractured skull. Someone get a phone, tell them we need a medical helicopter right now.”

Elias nodded, pulled out a phone and began dialling.

 

“Even, Even!” A voice was screaming hysterically, and Isak looked up to see a slender olive-skinned boy with floppy dark hair running towards him. “Even! Oh my God!”

“Mikael’s here,” murmured Sana to Yousef, and Yousef bit his lip and nodded.  

 _So that’s Mikael, the name the boy was asking for_. Isak felt his stomach abruptly sink as Mikael fell down next to Even – _Even, what a sweet song_ – and covered his face in kisses.

_What the fuck._

Isak watched dumbly as Mikael laid his forehead on Even’s, tears streaming down his face, rocking him gently, hands trembling as he stroked on Even’s shirt.

“Oh God, don’t die, Even, please don’t die, please!”

 

Oh, _right._

_Oh shit._

It felt like everything was underwater. Noises were blurred, echoing and making no sense, and still here he was, standing awkwardly in the middle of the crowd, watching a strange boy named Mikael kissing an unresponsive Even.

_Even, Even, Even. What a sweet song._

Isak snapped back to the present as Sana shook him roughly by the shoulder, and he suddenly became aware that someone was shouting his name.

“Where is Isak? Where is he?” shouted a voice which Isak recognised as Jonas. “Isak! Are you all right!”

“I’m here!” called back Isak. “Here, but there’s people injured in the garden, and a couple of them in a really bad way.”

He heard Jonas yell with joy. “I thought you were done for, mate!” – and the next moment Jonas was next to him, face bloodied and hair torn, but eyes radiant with joy. He flung his arms around Isak in a warm hug, burying his face in his neck and kissing him jubilantly on his cheek. Indeed, if the circumstances had been any different, it would absolutely have made Isak’s year.

He allowed himself one brief moment of joy under Jonas’s embrace, before pushing him away. Now wasn’t the time. Instead he pointed to the garden of injured protestors. “Seriously, Jonas, we’ve got to get these people out to a hospital. They can’t stay here.”

 

Yousef shouted from the top of the monument steps. “The fascists are coming back! They’ve got more people than before!”

“Shit,” groaned Jonas. “What are we going to do?”

Mahdi was panting next to them, slapping Isak on the back. “Fucking hell, Isak, guess you came good in the end, huh. Don’t worry, Jonas, BLM can hold them off awhile.”

Elias ran up, sweating, his face urgent. “They say the helicopter’s gonna take forty minutes!”

“Forty minutes?!” snapped Sana. “We don’t have that amount of time! The fascists will be here in five!”

“I’ll take our boys up the field, buy you as much time as possible!” called out Mahdi, racing off.

 “Let’s get the wounded out quick,” gasped Isak. “There’s more of us now. We can improvise stretchers to carry them to the medical centre the other side of the square.”

“We shouldn’t move them,” objected Sana, and Isak groaned in irritation. “I know, Sana, but we won’t last if the fascists attack us again. One punch could finish them both off. We have to evacuate.”

“I agree,” said Jonas, looking down at Even. “We don’t have a choice. I don’t think this guy has much time.”

“Come on then!” Sana directed people to improvise stretchers from jumpers and coats, and as gently as possible they lifted Even in their arms, gasping as they saw for the first time just how much blood he’d lost from the dark river that remained on the steps. The Muslims 4 Peace formed a column, in its centre the stretcher carrying Even and supporting the walking wounded shuffling after him. Around them Jonas’s Young Socialists spread out to deflect any attacks. Mahdi had reassembled BLM at the edge of the field to hold off the main body of the approaching fascists, but everybody knew they were on borrowed time.

Slowly they started to inch their way towards the road.

“There’s one more person here!” shouted Isak, kneeling next to the boy from school he’d rescued earlier, the one who couldn’t stop vomiting. “Don’t forget him!”

Elias looked back at the boy, his face dark. “That’s one of _them_. That’s one of the Nazis! I saw him shouting back in the march!”

“That’s Julian Dahl!” said Jonas, suddenly incredulous. “I have economics class with him. What the fuck’s _he_ doing here?”

“I, uh, helped him,” Isak stepped forward. “There were lots of people wounded. I didn’t know he was one of, uh ...”

“Leave him,” said Elias. “Leave him to his own people.”

“But he could die,” objected Isak. “He’s in a bad way, he needs medical assistance. We can’t just _abandon_ him.”

“Can’t we?” said Elias, his face dark. “Wouldn’t he do the same for us?”

“Well, we’re not him,” said Isak, pulling off his own hoodie. “We can’t sink to their level.”

There was a long pause before Sana stepped forward. “I hate to say it, but Isak’s right. We can’t abandon him. Form another stretcher, please.”

 ***

 

It was a long slog towards the medical centre. Dark had now completely fallen, and the only sounds were of the distant skirmishes between the fascists and BLM, and the panting of the rescuers as they struggled to carry the improvised stretchers. Isak walked in the middle of the column, watching Even’s pale face bob in and out of the moonlight in front of him, seeing Mikael holding his hand and weeping softly.

Isak himself helped carry the unconscious Julian with some assistance from Yousef. He couldn’t explain it, but for some reason he felt more responsibility for him than Even. Even had his friends now, he had his boyfriend Mikael, he had everyone looking out for him, but Julian had been seconds away from being abandoned, maybe to his death.

Of course Isak hated everything Julian stood for, but he couldn’t leave him to _die_. Whatever his beliefs, Isak still couldn’t _leave_ him.

“Shit, they’re waiting for us,” Jonas hissed from the head of the column, straining to see in the darkness. “They’ve doubled round and they’re waiting for us.”

Ahead of them stood rank upon rank of Nazi men, primed for a fight, torches flaming, blocking the exit to the square. One glance was enough to show them that they were vastly outnumbered.

Isak swallowed, and despite himself his eyes went to Even. Even wouldn’t survive another attack, this he knew. Both he and Julian were in a precarious situation, and the slightest blow or fall could prove fatal.

“We’ll go up ahead, draw them off,” said Jonas quickly, beckoning his Young Socialists to him. “We’ll lead them round to the right, and you guys make your way through the carpark on the left. You can get to the medical centre easily from there.”

“Jonas!” Isak could hardly get the words out, but his heart almost failed him at the thought of his friend, leading a charge against into the heart of danger, outnumbered so fatally. But Jonas just looked back at him and winked. “You’ve already been a hero, Issy. Now it’s my time to match you.”

“Wait!” Isak cried out, but Jonas and his group had already gone, speeding off into the darkness. His chest felt horribly tight. _I’ve already lost one person today_ , he thought to himself miserably. _Don’t let me lose you as well._

Sana, taking Jonas’s place at the head of the column, turned, her eyes blazing. “Don’t let them do it for nothing, guys. Let’s go!”

 

The rest of the escape was a blur. Isak could just about remember stumbling through the carpark, his ears full of the shouts and fighting to their right, but the few Nazis that they happened across were easily knocked aside by the vanguard of Elias and his friends Mutta and Adam. Halfway there they met up with Eva’s feminist group who had also been attending to those injured and carrying people to the medical centre. He saw Eva’s face, up close and talking to him urgently, but he couldn’t register a single word she was saying. It felt like watching TV with the sound off.

He was too numb even to feel relieved as they made it up the steps and into the medical centre. The reception was full of people injured from the protest, but after Sana banged her fist on the counter screaming about a fractured skull, Even and Julian were mercifully whisked off to blindingly white medical rooms for assessment.

The last Isak saw of the unconscious Even was as the doctors wheeled him past on a trolley on his way to surgery. Mikael tried to go with him but the doctor held him back.

“Are you related?” asked the doctor crossly.

“I, uh, no, not related.” said Mikael, suddenly going crimson and not meeting his eyes.

The doctor looked sympathetic. “Are you his partner, then? His boyfriend?”

“Uh, no I’m not,” snapped Mikael. “I’m just his friend, okay? I just want to check he’s alright.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait here with everyone else for news,” said the doctor. “But if you know how to reach his parents, you should call them to come here right away.”

 

 ***

 

Isak had fallen asleep, propped against a wall and a plastic chair in the now-deserted waiting room, when he was suddenly woken by a nurse.

“Did you bring in the boy earlier from the fight? The one with the fractured skull?”

Isak looked up at her, heart pounding. “Yes, I did. Is he all right?”

The nurse looked at him sympathetically. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

The room was spinning. Isak couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He couldn’t hear the rest of what the nurse was saying. He felt like he was plummeting down a dark tunnel, and the voices around him didn’t make any sense.

_Even, Even, Even, the sweetest song –_

“I’m sorry,” the nurse repeated, her voice echoing as from down a long tunnel. “We did everything we could.”

 

Outside, the police had finally gotten their shit together and the square was a mess of flashing police lights and yellow cordon tape. Isak walked like a zombie through the chaos, calling Jonas’s name. He felt exhausted and washed out but he couldn’t rest. Overhead a helicopter roared, combing the night with a blinding searchlight.

 _Where were you half an hour ago_ , thought Isak bitterly at the helicopter. _If you’d come quicker, maybe Even wouldn’t be –_

_The sweetest song –_

“Jonas!” he cried out desperately. “Mahdi!”

 

He bumped into Jonas after half an hour of searching. His friend was sitting on the war memorial bench with a medic taping up his broken nose. Clouds of tear gas illuminated by searchlights drifted across the horizon giving the scene the look of a war movie. But Jonas glanced over at him casually enough. “Hey, Isabelle, you okay?”

“Oh my god, you’re here,” Isak broke into a run and threw his arms around Jonas’s neck. “I thought you were  - ”

“Hey, careful,” said the medic. “I haven’t finished yet.”

Isak bit his lip as he pressed his forehead to Jonas’s neck. “I thought you’d died too.”

“Dead _too_?” Jonas pulled back and gazed at him, shocked. “Somebody’s dead?”

Isak nodded, not daring himself to say the name _Even_ in case it started the music playing inside his head again. Jonas caught the look in his eyes.

“That kid with the head injury? Shit, I’m sorry Issy. But you did everything you could, you know that, right?”

Isak knew, but it didn’t make much difference at the moment. All he could think about was _now_ , and right now he had something important to do. “I have to tell you something, Jonas. You need to listen.”

“Uh, okay,” said Jonas. “Go on.”

Isak felt as if he was about to jump on a moving train: he knew if he stopped to think about it he’d never do it. “I’m gay, and I’ve been in love with you this past year,” he said simply. “And I know that you’re not in love with me, and that’s fine. I know you love Eva and there isn’t anything I can do about that. But I want to stop being so fake all the time so…” He trailed off; he hadn’t really thought how to finish the sentence that had begun so bravely. “…So … I’m over it, I guess, but I just thought I’d tell you.”

Jonas’s eyes were very wide. “Erm, Issy, listen, it’s fine. Everyone knows you’re gay, mate, it’s no secret.”

Isak blinked at him. “Everybody knows?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jonas tried to smile but winced as the pain hit him. “I mean they don’t know the bit about you being in love with me, I mean I didn’t know that bit either, but nobody cares, Isak. Literally nobody gives a fuck.”

 _Except the people who were marching against us_ , Isak thought grimly. _Except the men who called me faggot, threatened to rape me and were going to kill_ – _did kill –_  He pulled his mind away from the name _Even_ again.

“I guess – now I know he’s dead – life’s too short, Jonas,” he blurted. “Life’s too short not to be real and stand up for what you are and what you believe in. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck things up with you and Eva. I think I’m probably over you by now to be honest. But I just wanted you to know me properly, that’s all.”

It wasn’t the time to start crying. But he couldn’t get his body to obey, and when Jonas put his arms around him and kissed his temple smackingly, boy-style, the tears leaked out regardless.

_Even, Even, Even, my sweetest song -_

“It’s okay,” murmured Jonas, rocking him like a child, and Isak let himself be held and soothed, burying his face in the crook of Jonas’s neck to staunch his tears. “You’re my best friend, you stupid asshole. It’s OK.”

“You guys gonna be long?” asked the medic from behind them, swab still poised in one hand. Isak had completely forgotten about her. “I haven’t finished cleaning your face up yet.”

 

 ***

 

It seemed like the longest walk ever back to the medical centre, but on the way they found Mahdi with a black eye walking arm in arm with Penetrator Chris who was sporting a cut lip and looked extremely proud of it. Behind them walked William, deep in conversation with Noora about the politics of women having control over their own bodies. Behind them Eva glanced over and made wicked blow-jobbing motions while motioning at their backs.

“Ugh,” said Jonas rolling his eyes. “Looks like Willhelm finally made his mark then.”

But Isak still couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, even when Vilde and Magnus ran over and showered him with praise, even when female Chris showed him some of the tweets and IG posts that had been written about him by the people he’d helped, even when some of the Penetrator squad whooped at him appreciatively, even when Jonas, sensing his sadness, ruffled his hair and pulled him closer with one arm around his shoulders. Only when he saw Elias and Yousef, deep in conversation on the hospital steps, did he manage to slow and look at them.

To his surprise they were both beaming.

“Hey, there he is, hero of the hour!” cried Elias, bounding over towards him and throwing his arms around Isak.

“Fucking amazing work, man.” Yousef pounded his back, and slapped his shoulder. “You were a real star out there, mate.”

“Careful,” said Sana bitingly, appearing at the top of the steps. “All this sudden praise might go to Isabelle’s head.”

“But …” stammered Isak, barely able to speak. “I didn’t, I mean – I mean, what? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more to help Even …”

Yousef looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean? You saved his fucking life, man. We’ve just been telling him all about you.”

The world appeared to be spinning around Isak so fast that he could hardly catch his breath. “Wh … what … you spoke to him?”

“Sure we did,” said Yousef grinning from ear to ear. “And he asked to meet you, as soon as he’s allowed visitors.”

Isak was still confused, but Jonas grasped his wrist tightly. “Issy, are you sure about what you told me? About the kid with the fractured skull?”

But it was Sana who spoke. “I got it wrong,” she said stiffly, as if grudgingly admitting a very grave fault. “Even didn’t have a fractured skull. He just lost a lot of blood from a head wound.”

“Some doctor you’d make,” said Elias mockingly, and Sana flipped him off with a scowl.

Isak’s knees felt as if they were about to give way beneath him. “You mean …”

“Even’s fine, bar a bit of concussion from a blow to the head,” said Yousef, grinning. “He’ll be up again in no time, as over the top as ever….”

But Isak was no longer listening, because the music in his ears had suddenly started up again, loud and proud with its own beautiful melody. _Even, Even, Even –_

“So who the fuck _was_ the kid that died, then?” asked Jonas, bewildered.

 

 ***

 

The little churchyard was almost deserted, apart from the small choir singing _Misere Nobis_ , and the priest intoning the final prayers of forgiveness as the first clods of earth hit the lid of the coffin.

_“…My peace I leave unto you, not as the world leaves it, but as God leaves it. Forgive one another just as the Lord has forgiven you…_

Isak stood uncomfortably behind the few mourners that had turned up, watching the burial from the shadowy safety of a tree. He wasn’t religious himself, but he understood that people needed a ceremony in order to say goodbye to someone they loved. But that afternoon not many people were present. He waited until the choir finished their song and the last petals of autumn dropped from the branches above and were blown away by the wind.

The Dahl family stepped forward one by one and threw flowers into the grave.

They knew who he was without being told. “Thank you for trying to save Julian,” said his mother, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you for being there for him.”

“We appreciate you coming,” said Julian’s father, biting back his pain as he patted Isak’s shoulder. “None of Julian’s other friends are here, you know. They’re embarrassed, probably.”

Isak felt his cheeks turn red. “I … I wish I’d known him better, you know?”

He wasn’t lying. If he had known Julian better, if he had been more open about who he was, _what_ he was, maybe they could have been friends. Maybe if Julian hadn’t been so prejudiced and suspicious, maybe he wouldn’t have been so easily suckered in to the lies that _Right is Right_ told him, maybe he’d have had less reason to hate people of different colours, sexualities and religions; or blame them for the problems that he himself had. Maybe Julian could have still been alive, if he hadn’t had his brain filled with shit. Maybe he’d have been alive if he hadn’t attended that march.

Or maybe he’d have found his way there anyway. Who the fuck knew.

“There wasn’t anything more you could have done,” said Julian’s mother flatly, gazing at the earth. “Julian had a fractured skull and an internal haemorrhage. You did everything you could.”

“Oh gosh,” said Isak, his mouth feeling like rubber. “I knew we shouldn’t have moved him. I’m so sorry.”

Julian’s mother shook her head. “No, I asked them that. They said that unless he’d had expert medical assistance within half an hour, it would have happened anyway. You actually gave him the best chance he could have had by insisting he was taken to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Her emotions got the better of her, and she wrapped him in her arms, her tears soaking down his neck. “I know you didn’t know him well, Isak. But thank you for being a friend to Julian.”

 

 ***

 

Whatever Isak had been expecting from Even it wasn’t this: a laughing fair-haired boy with two black and purple-ringed eyes from the punch the Nazi had thrown, half of his hair standing on end and the other half of his head shaved with a long jagged scar where they’d sewn his wound together. He also hadn’t expected Even to be out of his bed and sitting cross legged like a mischievous sprite on a huge pink inflatable giraffe which took up most of the space in the hospital cubicle. The fluffy-haired, rainbow boy that Isak had glimpsed at the rally had suddenly been eclipsed by an excitable emo-punk stitched-up zombie dressed in a white hospital jacket, talking ten to the dozen to the nurse who’d only popped in for a moment to take his temperature.

But for Isak’s money Even still looked like the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He tried to remember to keep his jaw shut and not gawp, but when Even turned and gave him the most radiant smile, full lips curving over white teeth, he felt like a moth suddenly caught against the full blaze of a rising sun.

“Oh my God, you must be Isak!” Even got to his feet and took a few shaky steps towards him. Isak’s heart pumped fiercely, stiffening in readiness for a handshake, but he wasn’t expecting Even to lean past his outstretched hand and wrap a pair of bare, warm arms around his neck so sweetly, hugging himself into him until Isak’s head swam.

“The guys have been telling me all about you and what you did. I can’t remember anything after I got to the protest, but I wanted to say thank you for everything.”

Even pulled back, and Isak wasn’t expecting him to cup his cheeks with his hands and stand so _close_ , gazing into his eyes as if searching for some kind of answer there. Isak felt dizzy, but in a really _good_ way.

“The doctors said that I’d lost so much blood that if you hadn’t gotten me here when you did, I might not have made it.”

“Uh,” Isak wasn’t sure whether he’d continue to function standing so close to such beauty, so despite himself he took a small step backwards to try to clear his head from Even’s proximity. “Yeah. No problem. You’re welcome.”

Even grinned at him, taking no offence from Isak’s cautious withdrawal. “Sorry, I know I can be a bit much sometimes, but I really, _really_ owe you one. Sana told me you’d saved so many people that night. She always spoke really highly of you, so to be honest I almost feel I know you already.”

Isak’s estimation of Sana went up a hundredfold. He’d _definitely_ let her copy his biology notes again. _But stop, rewind a sec._

“Sorry? You mean you knew about me _before_?”

“Well she might have mentioned something about being in a lab with the hottest guy in Nissen, but I assumed she was exaggerating.”

Isak literally had no idea how to reply to this, and all that came out was a stiff, “Oh?”

Even’s smile deepened. “I know this is a bit forward, but would you consider going out with me sometime so that I can say thank you properly?”

Isak looked at him, bewildered. “Uh, sorry? What do you mean, going out?”

Even beamed. “Or staying in. Whatever you prefer. You know, dinner, drink, whatever it takes to get to know you better. Once I stop looking like a cross between a serial killer and a scarecrow of course. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you on a date.”

Isak’s brain was racing furiously. Even was asking _him_ out?

“Um, er, why are you asking?”

He kicked himself immediately. _The fuck, Isak? Talking yourself out of a date with the hottest guy you’ve ever met at a protest march?_ _On the only protest march you’ve ever been to?_

“Why? My friends told me you held off an entire mob of Nazis with your bare hands,” dimpled Even, taking plain delight in Isak’s embarrassment. “I have to say, I found that incredibly sexy.”

Blood roared to Isak’s cheeks and he stood flaming scarlet before Even, who laughed happily at the effect his words were producing. He’d only just _met_ this guy – okay, only just saved this guy’s _life_ – and he was being called sexy and hot, and – _What the fuck?_

 “Yeah, Sana didn’t tell you the whole thing was a set-up? She was always saying she should hook us up some time. I just never thought she’d ever go to these lengths to organise a _whole, Nazi march_ on our behalf …”

“What?” Isak was so confused that he just stood there, lips agape.

“I’m kidding, silly!” Even was laughing, head thrown back, body curving like a graceful swallowtail, face bright like the sky. “You’re so easy to tease it’s delightful!” His blue eyes dropped slowly down Isak’s body before he shot a glance up at him through his long lashes, making Isak flush all over again. “But I’m very glad we finally got to meet.”

“And, uh, Mikael?”

The words were out of Isak’s mouth before he could think. Even’s bright face became suddenly guarded. “Mikael? What about him?”

“Uh …” Isak thought furiously, trying to think of a way out of it, but under Even’s blue gaze he couldn’t think of a way to backtrack. And since his confession to Jonas, honesty really seemed the best policy going forward. “Um, well, when you were unconscious, he kissed you,” said Isak in a rush. “And he was crying and seemed really upset. So I thought you guys were like, maybe, you know boyfriends, so …”

A shadow briefly passed through Even’s eyes, leaving them unreadable. “Did he really? Kiss me, I mean?”

“Yeah, but when the medic asked if he was your boyfriend, he said no,” confessed Isak, suddenly unable to keep anything back any longer. “But I wasn’t sure whether you weren’t, or whether you actually were and he didn’t want to say.”

Even’s eyes darkened and he picked at an invisible spot on his hospital gown. “Okay. I get your confusion. Well, full disclosure, then. I had a thing for Mikael last year – fell for him quite hard actually – but he said he couldn’t be with me in that way – he’s quite religious you know.”

“Oh?” Isak tried to look casual. “Erm, the Muslim thing?”

Even raised a caustic eyebrow. “Yeah, the Muslim thing. Because, well, I know he actually did want me, but ... It wouldn’t matter if it were a Christian or a Jewish thing or whatever. All it really meant was that he was scared of being together properly. And … well, that doesn’t work for me.”

Isak tried not to look too cheerful at the news that Mikael and Even were officially not boyfriends, and failed completely. “Okay. Yeah, that sucks.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you thinking that there’s anything going on that there isn’t,” Even said firmly. “I’m over it. It’s interesting what you said, he obviously isn’t, but I can’t live like that.”

Isak couldn’t think of anything to do but nod wisely, and he was rewarded as the dark cloud drifted away from Even’s face, to be replaced by a sweet and thoughtful expression. “I want someone who isn’t afraid to stand up and say who they are,” said Even passionately. “I don’t want to be with someone who’s always scared, or always hiding. Do you know what I mean?”

His heart was going nineteen to the dozen, and Isak wasn’t sure what he said in response, but Even suddenly smiled like the sun rising again and his heart felt so full he could hardly breathe.

_Yes. Yes I think I know what you mean._

 ***

 

They went on their first date a week later, as soon as Even was discharged from hospital. Even still looked like an emo punk stitched-up zombie missing half his hair, and Isak was still stiff and anxious about going on his first ever date with a boy in public.

After dinner, they took a short cut through the park where the march had happened and stood for a while thoughtfully on the steps of the war memorial. The blood, rubbish, police tape and gas canisters had been cleaned up and the casual passer-by would never have known what had taken place there only a few days before. Underfoot Isak could see that the grass was still scuffed and muddy with the prints of many thousands of feet, and this – together with the memory of Julian, made his heart heavy.

But Even took his hand, and the warm touch of his fingers was enough to start Isak’s secret music playing on loud repeat inside his head again _– Even, Even_! - and when Even stepped forward and gently pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, lingering slightly so that the sensation flooded Isak’s whole body, Isak turned around without hesitation, not caring who could see them in the middle of the park, and kissed him right back.


End file.
